Dotty And Scotty Go Shopping

RAISE THE FLAGS. SOUND THE HORNS. FIRE THE CANNONS.

I HAVE BEEN OUT. Out of the house. Outside, outdoors, out in the air, out in the snow, out, out, out, out, out. Scotty took me to the 24 hour Tesco. He wasn’t tired after all when he got here last night so he talked me into going shopping but he didn’t have to do much convincing because I always feel safe when Scotty takes me out and I felt particularly safe last night because of my new present (which I can’t tell you about but it fits in my handbag and the silencer fits in that little mobile phone pocket in the lining of my handbag). We set off at 3.30am (Scotty has a gorgeous brand new car – it’s posh) and there were NO OTHER SHOPPERS in the whole of the 24 hour Tesco except two different, separate women in their pyjamas (who does that? Tramps, that’s who) and three separate men, but Scotty got each of them in his sights and tracked them round the aisles while I waited in the Stationery aisle and they didn’t take long to get what they wanted and go.

I bought LOADS of stuff and some lovely, lovely stationery. Have I told you I have a thing about stationery? I LOVE IT ALL but especially fresh new black A5 NOTEBOOKS, soft bendy ones with metal spiralbound spines and a big elastic bit attached to the front cover so the pages don’t flop about if you don’t want them to. I love opening a new A5 NOTEBOOK and seeing the first blank page and knowing there are LOADS of blank pages for me to fill up with whatever shite I want. And I love getting to the last page and knowing I’ll soon be able to open a NEW ONE again. I LOVE MY A5 NOTEBOOKS. I bought a good few of them (32) because who knows when I’ll get to go to the 24 hour Tesco again.

I also bought TWENTY PACKETS OF CUMBERLAND SAUSAGES because I’d rather have Tesco Cumberland sausages than Asda’s (see Dotty Will Soon Be Done For) and like I said, who knows when I’ll get to go there again. I won’t bore you with my whole shopping list, bread, milk, McCain Chippy Chips etc etc because you probably buy similar things to me except if you’re American and you buy things like buttermilk and rye bread and chilli dogs and cornbread and grits and pot roasts and succotash (what the fuck is THAT?) — I have to tell you that in my recipe book collection I have spiralbound copies of both WHITE TRASH COOKING I and WHITE TRASH COOKING II so I know what you people eat and let me tell you IT IS VERY STRANGE and UNHEALTHY and when I’ve got some time I’m going to write to YOUR PRESIDENT MR BARACK OBAMA on your behalf and tell him you need PROPER NUTRITIOUS BRITISH FOOD in America, like Cumberland sausages and Yorkshire puddings and Jam Roly Poly and Chicken Dippers and Chicken Jalfrezi and haggis and Spotted Dick and McCain’s Chippy Chips (which are REAL CHIPS – THEY ARE NOT CRISPS) and sausage rolls and Melton Mowbray pork pies and HobNobs and onion bhajis and Scotch eggs and haslet and samosas and Spam and prawn crackers and Billy Bear sausage and Turkey Twizzlers and all sorts of PROPER NUTRITIOUS BRITISH FOOD that y’all (see what I did there?) should be eating.

Anyway, look what you made me do – I don’t have time to tell you any more about Scotty being here because he’s going to show me some of his photos and things and he’s going to tell me how to get Lottie back for what she did the other night (he was DISGUSTED by her behaviour and he’s going to order me a special trepanning kit from off the internet to replace my hand-drill that the police nicked off me) so I’ll have to tell you all about it next time. Okay?

EDIT EDIT EDIT — Panic attack, panic attack — I did a spelling mistake that I’ve had to come back and edit. I HATE making spelling mistakes, HATE it.

Well, dear Dotty, I am thrilled to hear you so happy! And it sounds like your brother was just what you needed. Still, about the White Trash Food, we in Maine eat a different kind, although it might still be called trash, I guess — lobster, blue crab, clams, mussels, oysters, scallops, flounder, haddock, halibut, Atlantic salmon, shrimp, deer meat, and whoopie pies. (Which are, if you don’t know, two big cookies that together look like a chocolate hamburger bun, slathered within with sickening fat and sugar frosting, a layer about an inch thick. Gut bombs, for sure! But they kill the fishy taste 😎

Dear Judith,
You poor thing, all that sea-trash and no Birds Eye Fish Fingers amongst it. Fish and Bambi and chocolate burgers …. I’m going to have to do more than write to YOUR PRESIDENT MR BARACK OBAMA, I’m going to have to set up a petition to send to him too, methinks. Actually, I might ask our lovely QUEEN ELIZABETH II to intervene. Maybe she should reclaim America and reign over you PROPERLY so we can look after y’all (I did it again) and make sure y’all (I love y’all) have proper food.
Love Dotty xxx

Dear Judith,
Yes. Real fish and chips would be top of the menu. If our lovely QUEEN ELIZABETH II doesn’t want America, I suppose I could do the job (for a price). QUEEN DOTTY I OF AMERICA sounds okay. Yep I think I’ll take the job, it might be better for you in the long run because posh British people eat nasty things like foie gras and lamb’s embryos (TRUE FACT) and I won’t make you eat those things.
Love Dotty xxx

Dear Judith,
Thank you! My official title will be QUEEN DOTTY THE GOOD-HEARTED OF AMERICA. The first change I’ll make is putting an end to all that democracy shite – a dictatorship is the only way forward. I won’t be a tyrant though, I will listen to what my people want.
Love Dotty xxx
P.S. My country is well fucked up too.

Dear Dotty,
“Sufferin’ succotash” is a catchphrase of the Warner Bros. cartoon cat Sylvester[5], also used less often by Daffy Duck. The Depression-era exclamation is said to be a minced oath of “suffering savior”. any mixture of vegetables prepared with lima beans and topped with lard or butter is called succotash.
Thank you for todays education!
P

Dear Persephone,
No no no, you’ve got it wrong – the cartoons don’t say ‘sufferin’ succotash’ they say ‘THUFFERIN’ THUCOTASH’, it’s entirely different and nothing to do with that disgusting concoction the poor Americans are made to eat.
Love Dotty xxx

I now realize I have done you a terrible disservice. I have been commenting to two separate people.
There is the worldly, wise, wickedly funny person who is perpetrating this hoax on the whole world, who fixes things herself, and loves kids… (although maybe not her nieces)… and is not at all bothered by cats… (but this one I could be wrong about)… and maybe even eats a reasonable amount of Cumberland sausages…
And there is the Hermit/waif whom we all long to take in our arms and protect from… well, from the rest of us… and take to the store in the middle of the night when no one is about… and provide head-shaped bricks for… and sausages…
I sometimes forget which of these people I am writing to.
Some of my comments might be taken one way by one of these two people, but another way entirely by the other. So either way the truth lies, I have hurt one of you…uh,… two… people.
Please forgive me…
In my defense, I do not care at all which one is real and which one is not. I like them both.

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